ALfheim Online
by livvykitty
Summary: John thinks that, to curb Sherlock's boredom, a virtual reality game may be of help. He obtains the Nervegear game systems for the both of them and buys ALfheim Online, a game that claims that players are able to fly. Soon, cases in real life become intertwined with the game, all working to protect the dark truth underneath ALO. (Sorta fantasy AU Case!fic/JohnLock & Mystrade)
1. Welcome to ALfheim!

**This is indeed based off of Sword Art Online's ALfheim Online (or, literally, Land of the Fairies/Light Elves). **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock or the original ALfheim. **

**Summary: John thinks that, to curb Sherlock's boredom, a virtual reality game may be of help. He obtains the Nervegear game systems for the both of them and buys ALfheim Online, a game that claims that players feel as if they're flying. Soon, cases in real life become intertwined with the game, all stemming to protect the dark truth underneath ALO. Sorta fantasy AU Case!fic**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Prologue: Finding One's Wings<strong>_

"John, what the bloody hell is this?"

John glanced up at Sherlock from over the pages of the book he was reading, raising an eyebrow, "What's what?"

"_This_." The younger man held up a black helmet-like device strapped into the wall.

"_That_," John replied, mocking his annoyed tone, "is the new cure for your boredom."

Sherlock let out a long suffering whine, "_Joooooooohn_, this does _nothing_ for me!"

"Not like that, it doesn't. It's a virtual reality helmet, called Nervegear." John explained, plucking the helmet out of the detective's hands. "Using this system to play a game, you fully immerse yourself into the game. Your body will be here in real life, but your mind will be sent _elsewhere_."

That got Sherlock's attention.

"I actually have a game for us to play," John gave the helmet back to the detective, rummaging in another box depicting another of the Nervegears before taking out a game with the image of two fairies on the cover, "_ALfheim Online._"

"Land of the Fairies?" Sherlock raised an eyebrow, "Why something like this?"

"They say that you can actually _fly_ in this game. Get the feeling of it and everything." John said, excitement glittering in his eyes.

Sherlock decided that this would be at least mildly interesting. It would definitely give him something to do until the next case appeared. So, he resolutely laid down on the couch and put the so called Nervegear on, feeling as if he looked a little foolish. John grinned and started to leave the room, "I already put your copy of the game in. Just activate the system!"

He could hear John's footsteps retreating. Seeing as the helmet had no visible switch and with the microphone attached, he assumed that it had voice activation. "System, activate."

There was such a bright flash of white that the young man had to close his eyes. When the light began to recede he opened his eyes. What he was met with took him by surprise. He could _feel_ himself back on his couch in his flat, yet he _seemed_ to be walking on a rippling black floor littered with stars.

"_Welcome_," A pleasant female voice greeted, "_to __ALfheim Online. Please choose your race and username._"

Nine avatars appeared in front of him; all animated looking versions of himself in different forms with wings and pointed ears. Sherlock supposed that the gear had a sort of full body scanner. Interesting.

The first avatar seemed so ridiculous, he had to snort. It was a brunette version of himself with yellow wings and, strangely enough, cat ears and a tail. It was labeled _Cait Sith_, a sort of beast tamer race. The skill seemed to be fairly useless to him.

The next avatar was labeled with _Undine_ underneath, a version of himself with blue hair. It was a sort of water affinity fairy with extremely powerful magic ability. This would definitely be appealing to a Dr. Watson.

_Meanwhile, John looked at the avatar of himself in a blue cloak and with blue wings. It was perfect! To be able to heal and still battle underwater would be a wonderful experience._

He went through five other races that held absolutely no appeal to him before he saw one that caught his eye. _Spriggan_, styled in black. Their affinity seemed to be illusion magic and treasure hunting. While the treasure hunting didn't particularly seem interesting, it would no doubt come in handy when gaining money to obtain weapons and other such necessities. The illusion magic was what really intrigued him.

And, of course, there were no silly hair colors or extra features to it. He would just look like himself with elfin ears and black wings.

He reached out a hand and touched the avatar. A text box appeared, asking for a username. The detective, who had never seen the need for false names unless on a case, said, "Sherlock."

"_Thank you for playing! Enjoy your time._"

There was blinding white light and Sherlock Holmes blacked out for a moment. When he gained his bearings, he noticed two things. He was above a forest.

And he was very quickly plummeting towards the ground.

Sherlock barely had time to react as he fell. Not many things could catch him by surprise, but how could he react when the scene had so suddenly changed to his own crash-site? He finally dropped on to the ground, bracing himself with his arms and knees. There was a very unusual ache in his shoulder blades and his ears still rang with the sound of snapping branches.

Looking over to his left, he could see someone else. He almost couldn't recognize who it was, gaze lingering on the elfin ears and the very light hair that shone a pale cerulean in the right light. Only when he looked at the man's face and caught sight of the sky blue eyes did he realize who it was, "John?"

John snorted, smoothing the wrinkles in his blue cloak, "You couldn't recognize me. I don't blame you, Sherlock; I mean my hair is bloody _blue_ for Christ's sake!" Sherlock got up and looked down at himself. He was wearing a black coat of sorts, the collar of which was already popped up. On the belt were the hilts of several blades.

"If you're wondering," John continued, "_you_ look the same. Just with pointy ears."

"And if you're wondering, your hair is still blonde. It's just very, very light." Sherlock shrugged. He looked around. On either side of them was forest. "Where the hell are we?"

"I have no clue," John said, sighing a little, "It would be so bloody easy if we could just have a map of sorts…"

Sherlock thought for a moment, "Do you know how to activate the wings? The game did claim that players could fly…" If he could fly up high enough, perhaps he could see the rest of ALfheim.

"Oh!" John brightened, giving a smug look that showed that he knew something that Sherlock didn't, "It's quite simple, really. Just think of your wings appearing and use the muscles in your back."

Sherlock blinked and closed his eyes, concentrating. He could feel a small, paper thin _something_ brushing his back and spreading out. When he looked again, he could feel wings fluttering with each ripple of his flesh. John gaped, looking awestruck.

"_Oh._"

Sherlock looked bloody magnificent. Large opaque wings the color of dusk protruded from his black coat, detailed with midnight blue. His pointed ears (which, John would later deny thinking) made him look adorable; almost boyish. His quicksilver eyes were catching the dim light of the moon as they focused on his wings, then on John himself.

Sherlock looked at him expectantly and he shook himself. He focused and could see the tips of blue wings brush his cheek. "Would you like to lead?"

Sherlock nodded and slowly began to ascend into the air. He paused, eyes going wide with wonder. He looked down at his feet, then back to John. His flatmate gave an encouraging smile. Sherlock looked up and shot into the air.

He had to laugh out loud. The feeling of the sky pressed against him as he _flew_ was simply amazing. He could still, if he concentrated enough, feel himself laying on the couch back at his flat in London, but why bother? It's not as if he could do this in real life. Maybe John _had_ made the right call with this game.

Then John was there, shooting past him and going higher before abruptly stopping. His flatmate looked back at him, seeming disappointed. His wings had begun to sparkle. _Fairy dust_, Sherlock absentmindedly thought.

"I suppose this is the flight limit…" John sighed. Sherlock frowned at that and flew beside him. The Holmes could see the twinkles of his own wings and his frown deepened.

It wasn't in his nature to give up that easily.

Sherlock focused on going higher, going above and beyond. That's when he began to push up and ascend higher.

This time, flying was an exhausting struggle, not at all pleasurable as he fought against some invisible bonds to go higher. When at last he felt that he could go no further, he looked down.

Just as he suspected, instead of clouds, there was the whole of ALfheim, spread out like map. They had come from the woods near the Sylph territory, it seems. They could take the mountain passes to the wetlands that would welcome John or go straight past the mammoth white structure in the center of it all to reach the ruins that would be his home. He looked at the white structure and the name: **_World Tree_**.

Before he could realize, he was plummeting again.

This time, John was there to catch him, beating his wings furiously. "Bloody hell, Sherlock! You're heavy!"

Once they both landed on the ground, Sherlock told him of his findings. John had grinned tiredly. "Maybe we'll explore tomorrow. It's getting fairly late."

Was it? Sherlock opened up the menu and stared at the time. They had been doing this for _two hours_. "I suppose so. There's always tomorrow, right?"

Sherlock and John both logged out. The detective was blinded for a moment with white light. When it faded, he could see the shot up ceiling of his flat. He blinked.

Well, things were just going to get more interesting.


	2. Arc 1 - A Night on the Town

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock.**

**Here's the start of Arc one!**

* * *

><p><em><strong>Arc 1 - To Protect One's Allies<strong>_

_**Chapter the First - A Night on the**__**Town**_

* * *

><p>The next time the two logged on, they were in front of a town. A warning message was etched into the sky above their heads:<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>PLEASE SAVE IN TOWNS. SAVING FROM THIS POINT FORWARD OUTSIDE AN INN WILL LEAVE YOUR AVATARS VULNERABLE TO ATTACK, THIEVES, OR DEATH.<strong>_

_**Thank you.**_

* * *

><p>John gave a little sigh and opened the menu, checking his money. Five hundred "Col" were stored, presumably this world's currency. He checked his equipment, finding the items <em>Cloak, Traditional Tunic, Leather Shoes, <em>and _Tool Belt_, next to his weapons which included a _Light Rapier. _

"No firearms," Sherlock murmured to himself, "Combatants must duel by predicting the other's movements and taking advantage of weak spots, sometimes taking the risk and leaving themselves open to attacks. How interesting. Much better than just using a dull firearm and getting the shot over with."

"Of course you would prefer sword fighting," John laughed to himself. The two looked towards the quiet town, Sherlock with fascination and John with wide eyed excitement. The buildings were simple wood, but held doorways with high arches to accommodate any sized player. Lining the main street were stalls with various items for sale, from weapons to armor and from potions to food. A stray wind blew past the two players, carrying with it the scent of things spicy and sweet and voices of all accents and tones.

Sherlock seemed just as excited by the entirety of the game as John did, though he was able to restrain himself somewhat. "Come along, John. If we're going to explore any more areas, it would stand to reason that we should purchase better equipment and explore the mechanics of this world."

John was soon running up ahead, Sherlock having to try and keep up for once. As the two entered the town, a few people turned to them, waving and giving a smile. John gave a smile back and Sherlock turned a scrutinizing gaze on them. He tried to deduce something from their hair, clothes, expression. Nothing. He couldn't find any signs. Their expressions were always set in a way that was too blissful, their clothes betraying no stray hairs or dirt (and if there was any dirt, it looked painted on), and their hands were all the same.

John turned back to where Sherlock had stopped. His eyebrows furrowed at the completely flabbergasted expression on Sherlock's face, eyes betraying confusion and jaw slightly slack. He was a bit worried when he saw that. "Oi Sherlock, you okay?"

Sherlock was shocked out of whatever state he was in and looked at John, face suddenly blank. "John, I can't deduce these people."

"What people?" John raised an eyebrow, becoming concerned for his flatmate. Since when did Sherlock admit to not being able to _deduce_?

"The ones who have been so _happy_ and _friendly_!" He groaned in exasperation, "They're perfect! It's as if they're not even _real_!"

John looked at Sherlock's distressed look and promptly began to laugh.

"John! This is _not_ funny!"

"For a genius," John gasped out between giggles, "you can sure be clueless at times!" There were a few more laughs before John explained, "Those _aren't_ real people, Sherlock. Those are Non-Playable Characters, or NPC's for short. The creators of the game just put them in to sell items and do normal people jobs so that the Players –us- can go off on adventures."

Sherlock processed this information and filed it away with a small _oh_ of understanding. "Well. Now I just feel terribly silly."

"You often are," John nodded before noticing a few of the shops and flouncing off with an excited, "_Come on!_"

Sherlock followed, watching other players as they purchased items and enjoyed food. A couple was walking not far from where the two were, hand in hand. One was a Cait Sith, with the ridiculous cat ears and tail, while the other was an Imp, a large, burly fellow a bit taller than the detective and much wider. They were having an affair, which Sherlock could tell by the way they spoke to one another. The Imp was going on about forbidden love or some other such nonsense.

The consulting detective smiled a little to himself. Now that some of the visual cues (stray hairs, perfumes, make up, dirt, etc.) were missing he would have to find new ways to deduce people's personal details. It would pose a bit of a challenge, something he didn't normally have outside of cases.

John had gotten a few medical supplies (antidotes for poison, paralysis and the like), a sword for Sherlock, a few daggers for himself that were sturdier and a bit of information from the NPC's on spells and the surrounding area. He tugged on Sherlock's sleeve to drag him from his reverie and towards where a small bar was located. "Sherlock, I've just spent all my money on things to get us by in the wilderness. I think you need to buy me a pint."

"They have alcohol in this world?" Sherlock wrinkled his nose in distaste, "Must these people continue to make themselves stupid wherever they go?"

John sighed, rolling his eyes, "I just would like to loosen up. Besides, you never know. It could be a fun… experiment, let's just say. Can you get drunk without their being any actual alcohol in your system?"

"So this would be like a placebo experiment," Sherlock murmured, "Fine. I'll record what you've done as well as my hypothesis and the conclusion to this little excursion." He stopped by a stall and got himself a pen and some parchment. "Lead the way, John."

Sherlock quickly started to jot down points on his parchment, following John.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Placebo Alcohol Experiment<strong>_

_**Is it possible for people to become intoxicated in a virtual reality game with no alcohol in their real bodies?**_

_**Perhaps, considering subject's occasional drinking and the Placebo Effect.**_

* * *

><p>Sherlock sat across from his flatmate, ordering him a "<em>Dulcis est Saltus<em>" John took a hesitant sip of the golden beverage set in front of him, eyes widening with surprise.

* * *

><p><em><strong>9:00 P.M. Subject seems to have taken a liking to the alcohol of this world. It's a good thing these beverages are so cheap; I'm afraid I'll be spending a lot by the end of the night.<strong>_

* * *

><p>"Which is more surprising, John? The fact you can even taste at all here or the taste of your ale?"<p>

"Sherlock, I don't think I've tasted anything like this," John was happily shocked, to say the least. He smiled and downed half the glass.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alcoholic beverage known as <strong>_**Dulcis est Saltus **_**(or "sweet forest" in Latin) is golden in color, most likely an ale. According to subject, has a sweet taste combined with a slight herbal tang and tasting a little like the forest. This description may be due to the fact subject is beginning to become "tipsy". Normal golden ale has alcohol levels of 3.5 to 5.3%. Considering the subject can hold three times this, I've calculated that the drinks may have alcohol levels of 8%. Better restrict his alcohol intake, as too much can lead to coma.**_

* * *

><p>John had visibly relaxed and wasn't even done with his first drink yet. He was smiling, talking about some boring subject or another. Sherlock wasn't exactly paying attention. After getting done with his first drink, he ordered a second, then a third.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>John is becoming increasingly euphoric. He keeps commenting on my eyes. I've had to remind him several times that this world is a video game, but he seems adamant on complimenting them.<strong>_

_**9:45 P.M. John has been attempting to convince me to drink. No John, I'm in the middle of an experiment. What he said next will not be written down. Ever.**_

* * *

><p>Let's just say that the dear doctor had quite a mouth and that Sherlock had never been redder in his life.<p>

* * *

><p><em><strong>No John, I will <strong>__**not**__** dance with you. Even if your hips do not lie.**_

_**John you are making me increasingly uncomfortable. I don't know whether I like it or not. If at all possible, sent help would be appreciated.**_

_**I have made the educated decision to never show this study to anyone. Science can figure all this out themselves for all I care.**_

_**John, please, not here. You are not in your right mind, this isn't even real life, and I refuse to take advantage of a drunk.**_

_**10:00 P.M. John tried to fly whilst inhibited. It is becoming increasingly difficult to write data for this as John continues to gallivant off. **_

_**He just knocked into some building. I caught him before he fell. John, you are probably the heaviest human being alive. Second to Mycroft, of course.**_

_**No more data will be needed. I think it's fairly obvious that you can get drunk in game. This is an experiment I will never repeat unless I, too, am extremely intoxicated.**_

* * *

><p>Sherlock dragged his friend to an inn and paid for a room for the both of them. He was too tired to even try going into his own bed, so he laid John down and crawled in beside him. After his eyes drifted closed, a message asked him whether he wanted to log out. He gladly did so.<p>

* * *

><p>When John awoke in the real world, there was none of the headache that usually accompanied all the drinking he had done. He just had a fuzzy memory of everything. He looked at his bedside alarm. It was four in the morning. Having the day off, he decided to join Sherlock back in ALfheim until it was time for him to cook breakfast.<p>

John wasn't sure at first if he would like the idea of the video game. It just seemed so childish to him. He had been happily surprised with how ALfheim was, and had no qualms about going back. Besides, it kept Sherlock out of his hair.

As he logged back in, he almost wanted to take everything back.

While his hangover didn't follow him into real life, it sure kept in the game. When he opened his eyes to the wooden ceiling, he winced, head pounding. Dear God, just what he needed. Sherlock was beside him, looking at him intently.

"What?" John snapped. He wasn't in the mood for his inquiries, no matter how scientific. God, last night must have been the worst mistake of his life (though he couldn't say that with any certainty, as he was drunk for most of it and couldn't remember a single thing).

"I was just about to say, we need to get going. There are things to do, places to explore; also, we're running low on funds and need to find a way to get more."

John huffed a small laugh and started to get up, wincing as his head pounded. He dug through his medicine and found the cheapest tonic, quickly using it to treat his hangover. The pain almost immediately disappeared, leaving him sighing with relief. "Well then Sherlock, I suppose we should be on our way."

* * *

><p><strong>So tell me what you think! The next chapter features two people no one wants to see and the mastery of spells and fighting. Let the game begin!<strong>


End file.
